


Ask Me Again

by SlimReaper



Series: Festivals [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Exhibitionism, Festival of the FIve, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, NSFW, Oral Sex, Other, Public Claiming, Public Sex, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, iopele
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7060396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimReaper/pseuds/SlimReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow-up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4653288">Risk It All</a></p><p>Every 50 vorns, Transformers throughout the galaxy celebrate the Festival of the Five--a holy celebration dedicated to each of the five gods of the Guiding Hand in turn, and each Festival is kicked off by a Race unique to its patron god. No matter which god is honored, the Victor's Prize remains the same: fame, riches, glory, and most of all, the chance to claim the mate of their choice before all and have their union blessed by the gods. Their chosen Prize has two choices--to agree to become the Victor's conjunx endura, or to request a year of courtship to decide.</p><p>When Knockout wins the Race of Primus, Breakdown chose the second option.</p><p>... or did he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ask Me Again

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for the awesome Naggingfishwife, thank you!

_Primus,_ Knockout thought nervously, optics locked on Optimus Prime’s backplates and his entire frame trembling as Breakdown squeezed his hand reassuringly, _I think I may actually have to start believing in You after this._

There was no answer from the god--of course there wasn’t--but even if there had been, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to hear it over the roar of the crowd anyway. Technically the spectators should have left after Optimus Prime had declared this running of the Race of Primus completed, but it had been less than half an hour since they’d all left the Victor’s Podium. The enormous stadium hadn’t even begun to clear yet.

And when Optimus Prime had unexpectedly returned to the Podium with the Victor and the Victor’s Prize following behind him, well, the festival crowd had happily surged back into the stadium, cheering at the top of their vocalizers even though they didn’t know what was going on yet.

Optimus didn’t keep them in suspense. He raised both hands for quiet as the media drone zoomed over, camera and mic trained on him, and surprisingly he got it. “Citizens of Cybertron!” he boomed, his amplified voice echoing throughout the enormous stadium. “I, and our Victor, beg your indulgence. Will you spare us a moment to repeat the Victor’s Offer ceremony?”

The crowd replied with a deafening roar. Optimus turned to Knockout and he felt a tremor in Breakdown’s fingers before the big mech released him so he could step forward and stand before the Prime.

“Knockout, again I stand before you and congratulate you on your victory. Do you wish to change your choice of whom to claim as your mate?”

Knockout shook his head and looked directly into Breakdown’s amber optics. He hadn’t been able to see his face the first time he’d called his name up here, and when he answered this time, he spoke to his lover alone. “I wouldn’t change a thing. I would give you everything the universe has to offer if you would be mine, Breakdown.”

Prime nodded approvingly and turned to Breakdown. “Breakdown, you chose a year’s courtship with your Victor to make your decision. Has your answer changed?”

The enormous mech looked nearly frozen with nerves, but when Knockout reached out to him with hands and field both, imploring, he squared his shoulders and vented in deeply. “I don’t need anything but you,” he replied so softly that Knockout had to read the words from his lips as he took Knockout’s hand once more. Then Breakdown looked at the Prime and raised his voice so the hovering drone could pick it up. “It has, Prime. In the name of the Five, I wish to accept.”

Knockout started to speak again, but Breakdown squeezed his hands. “And I invite him to claim me now before Primus and these witnesses,” he added, stopping the air in Knockout’s vents.

The explosion of noise from the spectators drowned out whatever Optimus said next, even with the amplification. Knockout didn’t care. He stared up at his lover, completely stunned. Breakdown wasn’t the exhibitionist he was, never had been, but here in front of two hundred thousand mecha, he was offering this? Finally Knockout managed to remember how to access his comms. _::Are you sure?::_

Breakdown smiled at him and didn’t answer. Instead, he walked over to the raised platform in the middle of the Podium and stretched out on it, never once breaking optic contact.

Well, Knockout supposed that _was_ his answer.

Far be it from him to disappoint his future conjunx.

All the pain and post-race weariness fled his frame as his systems smoothly shunted the elation of victory into pure desire. He barely heard Prime say, “May Primus bless your joining,” as he approached his lover, optics caressing his brawny frame--broad shoulders, thick hands, sturdy thighs, power in every line of his body.

“Oh, lover, you’re so fragging gorgeous,” he murmured, unsure if Breakdown could even hear him over the roar of the crowd. His fingers trembled as he smoothed them up the thick chestplate, so _strong_ , his high-performance engine revving at the thought of what was to come, and even if Breakdown hadn’t heard his words, he definitely felt _that._

_::How you wanna do this, babe?::_

Knockout smirked at the deep voice in his comm and didn’t try to hide it as he climbed up to straddle Breakdown’s hips. The stretch of his inner thigh tensor cords was another thrill, teasing him with a hint of another stretch to come. When he’d known that Breakdown was the only one he wanted, he’d adjusted the settings of his valve calipers so he no longer needed the torturously slow preparation to loosen his valve, but he hadn’t _quite_ adjusted them enough to fully eliminate that stretch. Primus, he loved that, the feeling of being stuffed full, Breakdown’s heavy spike almost more than he could take, the delicious burn of _pleasure/pain_ , so, so fragging _good_ , and his valve clenched down on nothing now as lubricants gathered behind his panel.

 _::How about you give me that magnificent spike of yours and let me ride you until I scream?::_ he purred over the comms, hands never stopping their caresses, feeling Breakdown trembling beneath him--and oh, that was another thrill, that he could make all that strength and power _tremble_ , and he ground his overheated panel against Breakdown’s. _::That sound good, big guy?::_

Breakdown grinned at him, but instead of snapping his panel open, he shook his head and grabbed Knockout’s hips. _::Let me just check if you’re ready for me,::_ he said, lifting Knockout effortlessly and pulling him up to straddle his helm instead. _::Open.::_

Knockout moaned, engine revving harder--the strength, the demand, his confidence, the promise in those gold optics, the feel of those giant hands on his frame, _frag_ \--he couldn’t stop his panel snapping open and didn’t even try.

An instant later, Breakdown pulled him down to his mouth, and Knockout threw his head back and moaned as his glossa dove deep into his valve. Breakdown guided his hips and he rocked in time with the talented glossa thrusting in and out, teasing his inner nodes, bringing him to the brink of overload with almost shocking speed. He curled forward, grasping at Breakdown’s helm, thighs trembling, unsure if he could even stay upright without those big hands on his hips.

Just before overload would have crashed over him, Breakdown lifted him. Knockout whined an incoherent protest, pulling at his helm, trying to force his way back down, but there was no give in his hold and he was helpless. _::There, babe, I think you’re wet enough now,::_ Breakdown said, grinning up at him, clearly savoring Knockout’s desperation as he licked his lips clean.

 _::Please!::_ Knockout pushed with shaking legs, trying to move down his frame, and normally he would’ve demanded the hard fragging he needed but he was too desperate, too keyed up from the race and victory and triumph of finally, _finally_ winning his beloved; his frame was burning and he _ached_ , he _needed_. _::Please!::_

Breakdown’s field flared with love and pleasure and he relented at last, lifting the racer’s trembling frame and settling him over his own hips again. _::I love you,::_ he murmured in Knockout’s comm, those words so rare from him, the admission he’d always had to drag from his lover’s lips now freely offered, and it was that as much as his anterior node rubbing against Breakdown’s scorching panel as the fighter carefully positioned him that rocketed Knockout into overload.

Breakdown’s panel retracted when he was still in the midst of his overload. The sensation of his huge spike pressurizing straight up into his valve-- _the stretch, the fullness, flirting with pain but still so good, oh Primus, so perfect--_ shot Knockout straight into a second, harder overload. “Breakdown!” he shouted, clutching at his lover, vents screaming, electricity racing over his frame and crackling between them. “Oh yes, _Breakdown!”_

When it was over Knockout couldn’t ride him, he had no strength, but Breakdown had enough for both of them and he lifted him, brought him down with a ringing _clang_ of metal, again and again and again. Knockout sobbed with the pleasure and joy of finally winning this mech he loved, of making his claim before all of Cybertron, undeniable and eternal. A third overload ripped through him and he forced his optics online to see Breakdown through the static starring his vision, holding his gaze through his overload, hoping to see ecstasy taking him over, too.

Instead, he saw Breakdown’s chestplates split down the middle, retracting to bare his spark.

Here, in front of all of Cybertron, before Primus and the Five, Breakdown offered him the most intimate gift one mech could give another.

Knockout knew he hadn’t kept the shock from his face, but Breakdown only reached up and cupped his cheek. _::This has always been yours,::_ he said, his voice soft, hesitant over the comm link, but still absolutely sure. _::Take it.::_

For once, Knockout regretted their size difference, because he wanted nothing more than to kiss Breakdown senseless and he couldn’t _reach._ Instead, he leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss to the glowing crystal that protected the most precious thing in his universe. Breakdown shuddered and his spike throbbed inside him, a warning that his overload was imminent.

And Knockout wanted nothing more than to share it. Retracting his own chestplates, he pressed forward to bring his chest to Breakdown’s, teal and blue light combining in a flash of gold, and then they were both crying out as he suddenly felt Breakdown all around him, within him, inside his very being; felt his love and his fears, his determination and nervousness and surety, pleasure and joy and strength and _Breakdown--_

Overload took them both together in an explosion of light, their cries blending together into one long note of ecstasy and joy, of completion, of _yes finally,_ of _this is RIGHT_.

When Knockout finally returned to himself, his panel and chestplates were closed and Breakdown was cradling him close like a priceless treasure and effortlessly carrying him from the Victor’s Podium. He thought about protesting, demanding that he be allowed to walk--he was the Victor, after all, he shouldn’t be the one being carried off like a prize!

But when he looked up at his lover’s face and saw the happiness and contentment there, he just smiled and snuggled closer.

He would be Breakdown’s prize any day.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr as iopele. [Check out my tumblr page here!](http://iopele.tumblr.com/commissions)


End file.
